A Search for Damian, or A Wayne Wedding Shakedown
by PrincessPower1135
Summary: Nobody expected that Bruce Wayne would ever get married...but that day has finally arrived. With all the usual suspects locked away in Arkham & security tight, just what could go wrong? When Damian goes missing, it's up to Tim & Jason to keep the elder Wayne in the dark...and Dick & Barbara to find Damian. What will they find...and will it have anything to do with Bruce's new wife?
1. Chapter 1

"I can't believe they actually went through with it," Tim mutters with disbelief as he loosens the red silk tie from around his neck. Dropping it next to the vase holding the creamy pearl white lilies in the center of the table, it coils on top of another discarded tie, this one identical in every way except for its blue shade.

"Yeah, I know," Dick says, unlatching the gold cuff links from his shirt as he relaxes back into the chair. "Till death do us part...I wonder which one of them will act on that promise first?"

Tim laughs heartily as the lights dim in preparation for the couple's first dance. Despite the fact that the ballroom is as large in size as it is regal in scope, a hush comes over the crowd as the first strains of the classical score begins. Lowering his voice slightly, Tim leans forward, plunking his chin onto the palm of his bent arm as he watches the bride's raven hair flutter as she twirls out of the groom's strong arms.

"Does it really matter? One dunk in that pit her father has and they can be back to live another day to make each other miserable."

"It doesn't necessarily work like that, and you guys know it."

The two brothers turn toward the voice with a shared look of amusement: they know the brooding, raspy voice as well as the black hair and crystal blue eyes that all three of them share. Upon seeing who else is now in their company, though, only one of them continues to look entertained.

"It was a joke, Jason," Tim replies with a jesting sarcasm. Raising an eyebrow, he laughs first at the burly man's stiff reaction but continues to smile at the obviously uncomfortable interaction occurring between the other two members of their little party.

"Barbara."

Dick sits up straight in his chair and runs a hand through his hair before reaching forward for his wine glass.

"Dick," the woman responds with the same attempted air of indifference, adjusting her glasses upon the bridge of her nose.

"And she's only partially saying that because it's your name," Jason responds tightly as he regards Dick through hooded eyes.

"Jeez, you guys should just get a room already and be done with it," Tim says, gesturing back and forth between Barbara and Dick as he rises from his seat. Glancing out over the now dispersed crowd, he catches the eye of the man in all black, who places a gentle kiss on the cheek of his new bride before signaling for them to come over.

"We should go over and offer our congratulations," he continues, inclining his head to look behind him. "Where's Damian?"

"What do you mean 'where's Damian'?" Barbara asks, barely hiding the panic that threatens to choke her voice. "He was with you guys."

"Yeah, during the ceremony," Dick states as his eyes begin flitting around the room, weaving in and around the gilded tables and well dressed guests. "He said he needed to deliver some kind of message to you from his mom. I saw you two talking."

"Yes, but that only took like ten seconds. I saw him head back toward you guys!"

"Shut up!" Jason shouts, rolling up the sleeves of his gray shirt. "Fight some other time. Just make sure it's not around me. We've got more important things to deal with right now."

"Jay's right-"

"Don't call me that."

"Jay's right," Dick emphasizes, giving his brother a swift but potent sideways glare. "There are two reasons why Bruce told us to keep tabs on Damian, and either one will end badly for all of the people here." Mirroring Jason, he rolls up his sleeves and looks at each of them in turn. "You guys stay here and try to keep Bruce preoccupied." Three sets of eyes simultaneously turn incredulous. "Just try. I'm going to go find Damian."

"I'm going with you." Barbara twists her hair into a bun, making quick work of destroying the shiny crimson curls that hung just seconds earlier. Removing the purple wrap from around her shoulders, she tosses it across the back of the chair. "Two heads are better than one."

Dick's shoulders drop infinitesimally as he starts for the door, knowing that it's often not worth starting a fight that you know you can't win.

"Fine."

* * *

"So what message did Damian give to you earlier?"

Dick pulls the door to another room closed, pivoting to look across the hallway at his companion.

"Message?" Barbara's face contorts momentarily in confusion as she turns from the window, the heavy tapestry curtains still drawn away from the glass by her hands. "Oh...it was just to use the ladies' room on the second floor because the one down here is out of order."

"Hmmm...That's kind of a strange message, isn't it? Especially for him to be delivering?" Dick takes a step toward her, staring down the empty stretch of marbled floor before them. "That didn't strike you as odd?"

"Not at the time." Readjusting the bottom of her long black dress, she precedes ahead of him toward the next room. "The ceremony had just ended - I was caught up in the moment." When she reaches the next door, she pauses, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "Not all of us are scared of weddings, you know." The rattle of her bracelet hitting the brass knob is almost enough to block out the sharpness in her voice...almost.

"Says the girl who just broke off her engagement."

"Oh, yeah," Barbara retorts in the same hushed tone that was purposefully just loud enough for the other to hear, "because that's not something _you_ would know anything about."

The next several minutes are filled with nothing more than the clacking of shoes and the slamming of doors whose rooms supply no secrets.

"Ok, so what now?"

Barbara plops onto the padded bench that makes up the windowsill of the grand window and glances up expectantly, not really needing the suggestions but not wanting to share hers right now either.

"Well..."

A simple three note chime cuts off Dick's stalling. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, his brows shoot up so high that they disappear under the loose strands of hair grazing his forehead.

"Man, I hope he got that on video," he mutters, his eyes still scrolling the screen.

"What?"

"Bruce. Doing the chicken dance."

Barbara covers her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "He didn't..."

"According to Tim, he definitely did." His fingers stop moving across the screen. "But we're running out of time. He's starting to ask questions."

"So he's starting to act like Bruce again," Barbara says, pushing herself up. "I guess we'll-" She cuts off suddenly, biting her lower lip and tightening her eyes.

"What is it?"

"The ladies' room on this floor is connected to the bridal suite," Barbara says, raising her hand to her mouth. She begins running her thumbnail over her lip slowly as her stare focuses in on one of the doors at the opposite end of the hall. "And you did say that Damian had to deliver a message that his _mother_ gave him..."

She stops, turning her eyes to search Dick's expression, reading whether or not they are on the same page.

"You don't think..."

"Who knows? I mean, we both know who we're dealing with here. And Damian is her son..."

Looping the straps of her heels over her fingers, she jogs to catch up to Dick, who is already halfway down the hall. When they reach the wide French-style double doors, he glances at her before turning the knobs, both of them having been in this type of situation enough times before to know that now is the moment to leave all of the past in the past. Giving him a small smile, she nods.

He throws open the doors, and for a few moments, they simply stand there stunned. When Dick finally speaks, his voice matches that of the one in Barbara's mind.

"What the hell?

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

After a few seconds of processing what she sees in front of her, Barbara's shocked expression transforms quickly into one of disgust, punctuated by a guttural groan. She flicks her glance to her partner, whose own changed look makes her roll her eyes back to their starting position: the bent over backside of the woman only now becoming aware of their presence.

The woman begins to straighten upright, every movement methodical, as if to prove that she is not in any way intimidated by the two individuals who just burst in on her. She tosses her long hair over her shoulder nonchalantly and shifts her legs, the black material around her thighs so tight it would be more appropriate to call it a second skin than a skirt. For someone less observant, they would think this woman was blessed with the most perfect head of natural ginger hair; for Barbara, though, all she sees is the unnatural, overly silky texture of a wig.

"Really?" Barbara begins, only now noticing the still-enamored, glazy eyed room attendant sitting in the seat beneath where the woman was leaning over. A bow tie hangs limp and undone around his bare neck, the top several buttons of his shirt undone. "Couldn't control yourself for even one day, Selina?"

"Wow, Ms. Gordon," Selina purrs as she slinks toward them, twirling a long strand of pearls around her finger. "It never does cease to surprise me just how competent Bruce's minions are."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Dick retorts, once again focused after his brief foray into gawking. As he crosses his arms over his chest, forcing his crisp black shirt to tighten around his muscles, Barbara has the quick side thought that maybe – just maybe – she had been a little hard on him for staring a few moments ago. "I highly doubt you were invited since that would be just kind of, um…awkward."

"I'm sure it would be," Selina states brusquely, snapping her fingers at the boy-man behind her, clearly getting impatient with his slow recovery, "if I was anything more than a wealthy long lost cousin who simply _required_ an invite." Ushering the man past Barbara and Dick and out the door, she pivots on her stilettos to face them. "But I'm not, now am I?"

"A wealthy long lost cousin who _requires_ a five finger discount," Barbara mocks in an affected tone, squinting her eyes, intensifying the standoff between the real redhead and the fake one.

Dick is just about to make a comment about how catty women can be (and give a slight, internal laugh at his unintentional pun) when a muffled crash echoes through the empty hallway. Barbara's eyes have widened by the time they meet Dick's, both of them rung back into the reality of their mission by the clang.

"Damian."

A slight bit of fear, a tad of scolding, and a whole lot of worry emits from Barbara's voice as she speaks that single word, already a few steps away from the door and down the hall by the time the last syllable is spoken.

Dick takes one last look at a surprisingly concerned looking Selina before taking off after Barbara.

"Try not to steal everything on your way out the door," he shouts, his voice trailing off as he progresses down the cavernous hall.

* * *

By the time Dick catches up to Barbara, she has rounded the corner and is standing with her hands on her hips, switching her head back and forth between two parallel doors.

"So what do we –"

"Shh," Barbara whispers, raising her finger to her lips. "Do you hear that?"

It was as if her words flipped some sort of switch in Dick's ears because as soon as all was quiet again, the slight murmurs and giggles became very obvious to him. But something immediately seemed odd to him, and he now realized the cause of Barbara's pause.

"Why does it sound like it's coming from both sides of the hall?"

"And what are people doing in these rooms anyway? These are private quarters, right?"

Dick could tell by the terse but not tense pitch to Barbara's voice that she was more irritated than worried, which made his own pulse slow. And once he relaxed a little, he quickly found the humor in the most likely scenarios going on inside the rooms.

"Come on, Babs," he jests with a cheeky grin, jabbing her lightly in the ribs with his elbow. "You know what they're doing. Like you said, not everyone is scared of weddings. Some people are even turned-"

"Ugh." Smacking his arm away, she takes a single stomp toward the door to the right of her. "With all the security Bruce always has you would think…" she mutters under her breath as she reaches for the slender golden door handle. "I'll check out this one. You take that one."

Two of the things Dick always loved about Barbara is her stubbornness and brazenness…and they also happen to be two of the things that annoy him the most about her. Thinking that he must really and honestly be his father's son because he's a glutton for punishment, he thrusts open the door, surprised at first that it actually turned and was not locked…

…and then exponentially more surprised at whom he finds on the other side.

Blond hair cascades down, far enough to practically cover the large, rugged hand anchored to her lower back. Her neck is arched, causing her chest to heave upward and almost out of her low-cut black leather dress and allowing the burly man with the combed back salt and pepper hair access to her neck, which he appears to be taking full advantage of.

"That's about enough of that." Within seconds, there is a slamming of a door so powerful that it seems to shake the walls. "How dare she lecture me? Pulitzer or not, I could kick her and her slouchy, wimpy boyfriend's asses if I wanted to!"

Barbara's shrieks seem to finally alert the busy couple that they have an audience, since it is only then that the blond forcibly pushes the older gentleman away from her. The color drains out of her face as she takes in who exactly comprises that audience.

"Dick," she squeaks, tugging at the leather dress that had risen up her black fishnet-covered legs. "This is not what it looks like at all."

"I'm not here to judge, Di," Dick replies, lifting his hands defensively in front of him and tilting his head to the side incredulously. "But we all know that this is _exactly_ what it looks like."

"Oh my God!" Barbara groans as she joins the party from the other side of the hall. "Seriously? It's like a damn frat party in this house!"

"Well, Grandpa," Dick interjects, ignoring Barbara and instead completely occupied with glowering at the man inside the room, "it's good to know that even after hundreds of years you can still enjoy the simpler things in life."

"You arrogant, infantile-"

"Come on," Barbara interrupts, pulling Dick away from the door and away from what would surely become the exact type of fight everyone feared would happen at this wedding. "We still have to figure out where Damian is."

"What about Damian?" The man tries to hide his concern behind a regal step and cadence but a slight worrisome tone still manages to break through. "What has happened to him?"

"It is none of your business," Barbara barks. "Now, why don't you get back to your own business." With a thrust of her chin and a disapproving shake of her head at a friend she would have expected more of, she disappears into the shadows.

* * *

Once again alone, the two of them walk on in silence, interrupted only by the occasional sigh or squeal of an old door reluctantly opening and closing. Excitement and adrenaline has weaned away to desperation and anxiety, as Dick repeatedly checks his phone for any word from his brothers and Barbara searches rooms more haphazardly and with increasingly less expectation.

"At least we haven't heard any _bad_ news from Tim and Jason yet either," Dick offers. "If Damian had done anything stupid, I would have been the first to hear about it."

"Maybe we're being too hard on him," Barbara wonders, taking the tiny glimmer of optimism her partner just presented and running with it. "Bruce did just buy this building a month ago. Maybe he's just exploring. Weddings don't exactly intrigue any twelve year old boy. Plus, I remember when I was new to the Wayne manor – all I did was wander around."

"Yeah, maybe you're right, especially with all the new construction still going on, but still –"

Barbara stops in her tracks, her face filtering through several different expressions until it settles on one of absolute insight. A smile slowly works her lips.

"I think I know where Damian is!" Not waiting for Dick, she runs back the way they came, retracing their steps until she reaches the grand dining room.

To be concluded…


	3. Chapter 3

"Ah-ha!"

Barbara's shriek of delight at the infinitesimal movement of the giant cupboard in the dining room overtakes the grunts of struggle that she made only moments earlier as she worked to prove her theory correct: that there is in fact something behind the hulking piece of furniture.

As Dick gestures for her to move out of the way so he can finish the job she started, she wipes her brow with the back of her hand, a pleased, knowing smile puckering her lips.

"Put some back into it, Grayson!" Barbara sings, anchoring her hands to her hips and watching her partner with animated eyes. "I could move it quicker myself if I didn't keep sliding on the floor with these damn stockings on!"

"God," Dick groans, making quick work of shifting the cupboard just enough to see behind it, "I forgot how infuriating you could be when you're right."

"And I forgot how jealous you can get when I'm right."

Barbara quickly raises her eyebrows and nods to cement her point before looking at – or rather, into – what now lies before them: a corridor no more than three feet wide and containing only two dim lights, casting just enough of a rusty orange glow as to not trip over your own feet as you journey inward.

"A cave?" Dick questions, deep, disbelieving crevices forming on his forehead. "And a secret passageway through the dining room? This is totally not Bruce's style."

"No," Barbara answers, shimmying through the tight space between the rich mahogany wood and crisp white wall, "but it is totally Damian's."

"_Armoire_ is now synonymous with a closet or wardrobe," she continues, periodically glancing over her shoulder as the two of them walk single file down the path, "but it originally meant 'a storage space for weapons'."

If anyone could make a history lesson interesting, it's Barbara, but, even still, Dick has to hold back rolling his eyes as he sees the shadows on the darkened walls of Barbara, hands raised, using finger quotes in elaboration.

"We all know that Damian thinks of himself as the ultimate Robin, the ultimate _weapon_…hell, the ultimate everything. And, while Bruce would simply be too smart to see this location as being somewhat transparent –"

"Damian just assumes that everyone else is that dumb." Dick finishes Barbara's thought as they reach the end of the corridor, opening into a surprisingly cozy space with a desk with twin computer monitors lining the left wall and a wardrobe not unlike the one back in the dining room lining the right. In the far back sits what looks like a lab table covered with various tools and bottles, and directly in front of them is an open, empty space, scattered about with jump ropes, ankle weights, and other fitness-related gear.

"Not bad, not bad at all," Dick remarks in a voice not lacking a hint of jealousy. As he takes in their surroundings, Barbara can't help but laugh slightly at how a handsome, wealthy twenty-something who also happens to be one of the best crime-fighters she knows is jealous at a pubescent, twelve year old boy's toys.

"Bruce did say he wanted to make sure Damian had a space of his own when he bought this place. Said it was good for his mental development or something like that." Barbara waves her hand in front of her nonchalantly.

"Isn't that what a bedroom's for?" Dick wonders quietly, walking over and plopping down on the oversized leather desk chair. He takes and releases a deep breath, meeting Barbara's eyes. "But we still have a problem - Damian isn't here."

Barbara was so caught up in mentally patting herself on the back for figuring out this piece of the puzzle that she had completely forgotten about the bigger mystery at hand. Trying not to appear as panicked as she is once again beginning to feel, she perches herself on the edge of the desk and looks around the room.

"Well," she begins to rationalize, "he has obviously been here since his dress shoes are right over there and all the lights are on. He's bound to come back. Maybe we should just wait a little while."

"The kid has more than one pair of dress shoes, Barbara." Dick looks down at the concrete floor beneath them, but Barbara doesn't need to see his face to know he's upset: he never calls her by her full name unless he is angry or upset. And she has the funny feeling that, for the first time in a long time, it is not the former. "And we don't know how long it's been since he's been here. He's a kid. Kids leave lights on."

"I never should have let him go alone to find you guys earlier," he continues, rocking his head back and forth slowly. "He's too young...too new to all this. God, do you have any idea how many people are after us – all of us? But especially him."

"Stop being so damn dramatic!" Barbara practically shouts, wanting to not only shut Dick up but also shut out the fears his words are exacerbating in her mind. "You have to give him some credit. After all, you had a big hand in his training, and we all know you're pretty awesome."

If there is someone who knows how to make Richard Grayson feel better, it's Barbara – a well-meaning, genuine compliment will get him every time. The quick smile she receives is payment enough for her action because she can tell by the look in his eyes that that smile goes deeper than a simple compliment, deeper than just their adventure today.

"You have always doubted the abilities of your partners," Barbara states after clearing her throat and looking away, breaking her contact with him. "It's not a good trait. You have to learn to trust them."

Out of the corners of her eyes, she sees Dick get up and walk the short distance to stand in front of her, and as desperately as she doesn't want to look up into those crystal blue eyes that still make her a little weak in the knees, she does exactly that, always more determined than desperate.

"It's not a lack of trust," Dick sighs as he slides into the space of desk next to Barbara. "I'm just overprotective of the people that I –" He cuts off, running his tongue over his teeth as he flicks his eyes from the floor to Barbara and back again. "That I care about. It's as simple as that."

There is absolutely nothing romantic about the gloomy, dank hideaway of an angsty (almost) teen, but Barbara senses that, in a way, this setting seems utterly perfect and, even more so, unbelievably appropriate, given the nature of their relationship from the beginning. After all…

"Nothing's ever simple."

Leaning over, Barbara pauses only long enough to register the smile in Dick's eyes, a smile that transfers to his lips just moments before they meet with hers. At once moist and cold and hot and soft, their struggle was no longer staying apart but rather fighting over who could get closer, who could deepen the kiss even more.

A struggle that causes them to block out the sound of a door opening.

"Ewww...on my desk?!"

Barbara and Dick pull back and swing their heads toward the voice that they both immediately recognize, despite their flushed and flustered states.

"Damian!"

Their exclamations are so sharp that they bounce off of every nook and cranny of the room, causing Damian to move his hands from his eyes to his ears. Bounding off the desk, they both reach Damian in a single, elongated hop-step.

"Where were you?"

"How dare you disappear like that?"

"Why didn't you let any of us know where you were going?"

"There's a door over there?"

It is Barbara's final question that finally ends the barrage of chastisement, as all three of them look at the still ajar door positioned right next to the lab desk in the back corner. Damian turns away first, pursing his lips and shaking his head at the adults still gaping next to him.

"And you guys call yourselves detectives…"

At just that moment, a distant scraping noise and loudening footsteps draw their attention in the opposite direction, back toward the passageway that delivered Dick and Barbara earlier. Within seconds, four figures stand before them, two looking like the white queen and black king from a chess set and two looking like overworked, slightly disheveled pawns that have most likely been all over the board and back again.

"See?" Tim replies, shooting a look at Dick and Barbara to just go along with whatever he was about to say.

"Yeah," Jason chimes in, "told ya they were all down here, pops."

Tim whistles in approval, strolling over and planting a hand on Damian's shoulder. "Nice digs you got here, kid."

Damian shrugs off Tim's hand roughly, shooting daggers at him with his eyes. For a moment, everything is silent, everyone seemingly waiting for Damian to somehow validate or dispute the lie that Tim and Jason just concocted. Finally, Damian turns to his mother and father and lifts his arm to point at Dick and Barbara.

"I fully expect a new desk," he states smugly. "I just leave for five minutes to go to the bathroom, and I come back to find these two making out all over it. It cannot be stood for."

Dick and Barbara ignore Tim's crooked smile and Jason's eye roll, instead choosing to focus on Bruce: as thankful as they were for the attempt, what were they all doing lying to Bruce? Of all people, he could assuredly see right through them.

But, despite a momentary tightening of his eyes and a swift examination of the room, the sound that comes out of his mouth when he finally focuses back on Dick and Barbara is one that neither of them and assuredly no one in the room expects: a loud rumble of laughter.

"It's about time" is all he has to say.

**The End**


End file.
